


Dance Around the Firelight

by aPassionateLife



Series: The Adventures of Mor [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Culture Differences, Dungeons and Dragons, F/F, Female Orc - Freeform, Height difference, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Orc, Orc/Human Relationship, Size Kink, Strong Women, dnd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:06:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28463568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aPassionateLife/pseuds/aPassionateLife
Summary: Mor takes Treena to a clan gathering, sexy things follow.
Relationships: Mor Volen/Treena
Series: The Adventures of Mor [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2084880
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Dance Around the Firelight

**Author's Note:**

> It’s just an excuse to write sexy female women having sex, don’t be fooled.

“Come on little one, it’s just a small clan gathering.”

She ran her fingers along the firm skin of Mor’s chest and followed the textured memories. Treena knew it was important to attend this event; family, friends, and partners would all be there, and as Mor’s mate she needed to rally her strength and overcome the anxiety of the unknown. With a sigh, she sat up, staring at her lovers neck, the hammered gold of her tusks, and finally settled on her eyes.

“Do I have to wear anything fancy? Because I do tavern wench well, but not much else.”

Mor smiled, all teeth and predatory glint, and rolled onto her side with a flex of muscle.

“Hm.” She grunted noncommittally, ‘I think you do your best work in the nude, not as tavern…”

An explosion of feathers burst through the small room as she bludgeoned Mor with a pillow.

—

“You look fine, little one. Take a deep breath.”

Treena smiled up to Mor who was dressed in clan formal wear. Polished gold, soft, dark leathers, and delicate chains that didn’t match her mates stature and personality. It was eye-catching and alluring; it made her want to touch and follow the trail of long chains.

“Treena?”

“Sorry, yes, I’ll be fine. I’m here with you always.”

Mor smiled warmly and held her hand, kissing the back of it with a press of tusks. She turned to leave and join family and elders for some sacred rite that she had no business being near, no matter her relation to Mor. Something she accepted openly without any feelings of bitterness or anger. She was human, Mor was orc, they come from different cultures, some things stayed within those cultural lines. But she would be there, in the background, supporting and sending love through their bond.

—

Their day soon turned into a murky evening that promised a humid, cool night. Moisture clung to her skin and made her cloths stick as she laughed and danced around the fire with Mor. It was the size of a small cottage, more than fifty people at a time could be around it and feel the lick of its heat. As the day progressed she had made small talk with many of Mor’s friends and family, some of her old battle comrades as well. Each had a new story to tell, and a new layer added to the many she already knew about Mor. These people became good friends as everyone drank and enjoyed a feast of every food attainable, and she prided herself knowing she had made drinks that managed to shake even an orc’s tolerance. Best of all was watching Mor, normally stoic and reserved, come alive around friends and in safety.

She looked up to Mor, who’s dark eyes were shining in the firelight, and watched as she moved. Strong, brutal movements of stomping feet and swaying body with sharp shakes of arms that looked more like combat than dancing. It was violent and sensual and reminded her too much of sex to be around orcs with a highly sensitive sense of smell. Her face ran hot as Mor turned to look at her, a knowing smirk playing the corners of her normally down turned lips. She approached like a predator, not a lover.

Treena found herself edged closer to the fire, bodies passing by her like large shadows. Then Mor was in her space, towering over her as she took small, aborted steps back to the fire that was becoming too hot behind her; more sting than comfortable burn.

“Having fun, little one?” Mor rasped into her ear, hands like a brand on the smallest part of her waist. How hadn’t she realized that Mor’s thumbs could touch around her waist?

She must’ve taken too long in answering; Mor’s dark laugh filled the remaining space between them and she was lifted clear off the ground and over her mate’s shoulder. Her world moved in blurs of orange light and silhouettes as she was carried away from the fire and moved into a cool, humid place that captured only flickers of light and sound. Hidden away, private, except for the bits of motion and music that filtered through the hung pelts and high grass.

Mor slid Treena down off her shoulder to perch on muscled hips; their eyes met for a moment, bond communicating without actual words, and then Mor was crushing her back into a tree, lips more a snarl than a kiss as they met. Alcohol and adrenaline fogged her judgement as she gripped at the soft leathers that twisted around her mate’s torso and hauled her in close, legs splayed wide around hard thighs as she slowly sank lower.

She let out a muffled, sharp sound as Mor hiked her higher and pressed her, harder this time, against the tree. Burning ran down her spine and back up her thighs at the rough press and she felt no shame in admitting that it got her wet and aching for the same treatment in other ways. She made sure Mor knew by grinding her hips roughly and raking her nails down the sensitive skin visible along her sides.

Mor hissed, hot and close, and Treena gasped as a hand came around her neck in a press that was just shy of doing actual damage.

“You’re a temptress,” she growled, thigh shifting to sit between her legs for more friction.

“This was a casual clan gathering until you and your human smell started to rub off on everything. Everyone you touched has your smell. Every place you sat, every place that a drop of your sweat landed as you danced. Did you know I was watching you? Do you know how badly I wanted to claim you in front of the ceremonial fire and make you mine?” Her grip tightened and she watched with animal delight as Treena’s face started to turn pink, “I wanted to sink my teeth into you, still do.”

“Please,” it was barely a whisper of air, but Mor heard it as if it was shouted.

“You’ll get what you need,” the hand stealing her air pulled back just enough for her to feel desperate for it, “and so will I.”

Bushes a few feet away rustled and a voice that sounded far away called their names. With casualness, Mor tossed a few words of confirmation over her shoulder in a language she didn’t understand. When dark eyes settled on her own she knew exactly how this night would end.

“We’re being called, little one. It’s time for The Hunt.”

—

Moments ago Treena was pressed up against a tree with bruises forming around her neck and the dying need to climax, and now she has a short sword in one hand and a rope in the other. Warriors and their mates were being sent out to hunt, alone. As she stepped noisily through underbrush and watched as others moved silently she wondered if it was her who was being hunted and not the wild game.

Dusk made itself known through a drop in temperature and a growing thickness to the air. With every step she felt moisture cling to her cloths and soon it felt like parts of material were grafted to her skin. She started to shed layers until she was in the pelt under-layer of her dress with a piece of leather to tie off the middle and nothing more; shoes long forgotten on the forest floor.

Nearby rustling made her shake in her skin, the prickling awareness of danger lurking just below the muddled haze of lust and alcohol. A snap and sharp push of air made her fall back, a spear imbedding itself into a tree where she had been standing. She lurched gracelessly to her feet and took off running, branches and stray foliage cutting at her legs and feet as she ran. She followed the sound of water until she came to the bank of a river. It ran slowly, large rocks lined the banks and scattered along the middle, causing ripples of current and large cascades of uprising water. She swallowed thickly, it was either swim or follow the shore line.

She dove into the cold water, shock prickling her nerves into a moment of paralysis until she drew in a breath and regained control. Her pace was fast and sloppy, more concerned about reaching something solid than her form. Through clouded eyes she saw a large boulder jutting up from the water; it seemed long and protected from the currents of the water.

Her hand met the rock and she lifted herself up onto it, hair cascading into her eyes in a mess of wet knots and her clothing stuck to her, threatening to burn her from the cold. With a quick shake she shrugged out of the last heavy layer of clothing to be left only in a silk underdress. Final rays of sun winked between the branches of overhanging trees and she felt it dry and warm her. She only had a moment until she felt the creeping sensation of being watched. Her eyes met the shoreline and she saw a familiar silhouette with a spear in hand. Nerves sang as she jumped to her feet and went from rock to rock until she hit shore, taking off running.

Barely any light shone through the trees here, her human vision failing her as she stumbled over every root and small animal that crossed her path. As she stopped to take a breath another spear embedded itself in the tree next to her at waist height. This time she didn’t run, she gave in.

Pulling the short sword from her belt, she readied herself for the first strike. It came harder and faster than she expected. Mor came from head on, which was genuinely kind, she could see in the dark while Treena saw shadows and vague shapes. But the blows weren’t aimed to kill, they were aimed for submission. Mor wanted her to give in, to give herself up.

Her sword flew from her hand and the tip of a spear planted itself firmly under her chin, lightly cutting the skin of her neck.

“Surrender,” Mor hummed, the sound rumbling from her chest rather than her voice.

Treena dropped the sword and tilted her chin up, arms opening to her sides, “I surrender, I’m yours.”

The spear dropped to the ground with a finalizing clank and she was pressed up against a tree in the same, uncompromising position she had been in before The Hunt started hours ago.

“That’s right,” Mor started, licking and biting up the bruises around her neck, “you’re mine,” Treena gasped and bared more of her neck and chest, “and I’m going to take all of you,” Mor’s words were final.

With a sharp snap Mor pulled the spear from the tree in reach and dug it in just below where Treena was trapped. Her back slid a bit as the pressure was lessened and she ended up perched on the spears body, the hard wood supporting her weight and giving her something solid to grind into.

She couldn’t contain the loud moan of want and relief as she rolled her hips for the first time, a dark chuckle resonating from Mor in front of her.

A forearm pressed against her chest as her mate took a step back, looking at the disheveled state she was in, and lifted her brows in amusement.

“So desperate for it.”

Mor wasted no more time in teasing or idle talk, her lips claimed Treena’s and her free hand ripped the remaining silk from her body. She was exposed, cold, and bared for anyone who would pass by to see. She flushed dark, face and chest hot with shame. But Mor hushed her, “little one, this is nothing to be ashamed of. On a day such as this it is to be expected. Don’t hide from me, don’t be afraid.”

Mor’s breath singed the cold skin of her shoulders and chest until her lips and tongue found a nipple and circled it until Treena thought she would go insane, all reservations forgotten. Mor repeated with the other nipple, leaving dark bruises and teeth marks in her path, until she finally reached as low as she could go on two feet.

“Are you ready for me?”

Treena let out a sound akin to a scream and pulled hard at the leathers and chain that adorned her mate, “if you don’t fuck me I will find someone else in this forest to do so!”

Mor’s eyes slitted in feline pleasure, pupils blown so wide there was almost no color left, “as if any other could satisfy you,” she sunk two fingers in deep.

Wet, dirty sounds and harsh breathing filled the space around them as Mor kept fucking her with a ferocity that she hadn’t seen in her partner before. Her thighs quivered as she tried to remain balanced on the spear and after a few moments she felt her climax build.

“Mor..” she whispered, words confused with little meaning.

“Not yet,” Mor pulled out of her, hand dripping to the soil below.

They clashed in a kiss that was guided by primal need, teeth and tongue and harsh breathing as Treena ground hard into the hilt of the spear, desperate for release.

Mor gripped her skull and pushed it back against the tree, body tilted backwards to expose her chest and stomach to the night air. She prickled in goose flesh and set her eyes on Mor, hands gripping the one in her hair.

“Finish for me,” Mor slurred, three fingers finding their way home and setting a punishing rhythm. Before she had a moment to process, sparks lit up her spine and she knew it would be over too soon. ”Mor,” she started, “Mor, please, I need…”

“What do you need?”

“Fuck!” Treena shouted as she felt Mor’s fingers leave her as she climaxed, liquid dripping to the floor and soaking her thighs and Mor’s hand and forearm.

She watched drunkenly as the fingers made their way to Mor’s lips and tasted, a vibration in her chest that could be felt but not heard.

“Again.”

Four fingers this time, close and rough with Mor’s hand at the small of her back supporting her.

She came again, soaking some of Mor’s pelts and leather on a small scream.

“Again.”

She did.

“Again.”

And once more.

“My turn.”

Mor pulled her from the spear with little finesse and dropped her to wobbly knees. She felt the strong thighs ripple as she leaned against the tree and pulled down her ceremonial clothing, chains and gold clanging together in the rush.

Treena had a moment to gulp air before she was pulled forward, lips meeting soft, wet flesh.

In her state of contented arousal she felt like she could continue for hours, tongue and lips folding with obscene, sloppy sounds. A hand in her hair guided her closer, teeth pressing so hard into sensitive flesh that had to border on pain. But Mor was groaning above her, thighs holding her in place, and exclaiming her release.

They both collapsed to the damp soil, Mor holding her in her lap and kissing at the reddened marks on her neck and chest. With a shaky breath Treena gathered her courage and swallowed her fear.

“I meant it.”

“You meant what, little one?”

“When I said..please. I meant it.”

Mor’s eyes lit up with realization and her eyes shone with the start of emotional tears.

“If you’re sure, Treena. Only if you’re sure.”

She nodded, smiling bright and loving, “I’m sure, please.”

“Alright,” Mor shifted them so her mouth aligned with her shoulder.

“Deep breath,” her teeth sank deep.

“Please.”


End file.
